


Star Wars: Proton Squadron

by thebooksdoctor



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Original Character(s), Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28937064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebooksdoctor/pseuds/thebooksdoctor
Summary: A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...The Galactic Empire, seeking to enhance its control over the galaxy, has started a program to train young Force-sensitives to fly for their TIE squadrons. The Rebel Alliance, catching wind of this nefarious plan, seeks to prevent the hostile takeover of the galaxy by their foes. From youth, a pilot with the codename Scavenger has been loyal to the Empire and has led their elite force, Proton Squadron, in simulated combat. Now, at the age of eighteen, the young pilot must face the Alliance head-to-head and prevent the destruction of what he has fought so hard to preserve. The Battle of Endor will be their proving ground...





	1. Prologue

“Prisoner SC1, awaken,” the automated voice that woke him every day blared.

The man who sat, fully awake, on the bunk’s posture spoke to his former high standing; the way he sat hinted he was accustomed to finer clothing, but all that elegance had decayed alongside his health. His emaciated ribs and his unkempt black beard seemed out of place on a body that sat so straight, so disciplined. He chuckled, seeming as if he had remembered some inside joke from youth, then shouted quite loudly, “Trooper, is it time for my daily beatings?”

The cell door opened and the energy bars fizzled out. A lone stormtrooper carried a small rectangular device and set it on the cot next to him. The man took a moment to analyse the trooper, every one of the sixteen nicks on the chestplate. He was still a new trooper, barely seen any engagements. It would be so simple to punch those exact spots and shatter the armour. Unlikely fantasy, considering that his superiors were likely around the corner, ready to take a threat like him down with extreme prejudice. “Write out your last wishes to be broadcast,” he intoned humorlessly. Then he marched out and the man was alone again.

The man looked at the small holopad laid at his side. “I have a better idea,” he mused. “Holodiary. Something to remember me by.” He picked it up and smiled.

In memory of Chandra. He typed. “You would like it,” he muttered sadly under his breath. He had a lot of history to cover and, apparently, only a few hours to write. “This is the way of things,” he said, and set upon his great task.


	2. Interlude One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A secret meeting between the highest members of the Empire decides the fate of the Children of the Force.

9 Years Before The Battle of Yavin  
Imperial Palace, Coruscant

“Pestage, my old friend.” Sheev Palpatine steepled his lithe fingers and looked at his advisor. “Amedda, my aide.” He turned to the blue Chagarian at his side. Mas Amedda licked his meaty lips and frowned. “Sly. You are my closest confidantes.”

Sly Moore sighed resignedly. “You doubtless have called us to discuss your special fighter program.”

Amedda grimaced. “How are we to gather a squadron’s worth of Force-sensitives? Doubtless you do not forget that your first act as Emperor was to have all Jedi traitors eradicated, and another purge of Force-sensitive families soon after. Your Vader saw to that,” he added with a sneer.

The Emperor leaned forward and rested a hand on the Wroshyr wood table he had appropriated from the Wookiee delegation ten years ago. “Many beings have a possibility to touch the Force, just very few have the ability to sustain a connection. You have COMPNOR’s employee records, yes?” 

Pestage raised one eyebrow and ran fingers through his greasy, graying hair. 

“Run a search through the database and determine those with M-count of 5,000 or more,” the Emperor crooned.

Pestage’s eyebrow lowered and a thin smile crossed his face. “Make one list of married couples and group the rest into the second list,” he added to a page standing nearby.

Amedda smiled as well. “May I suggest children? Certainly easier--”

“To control,” finished Sly Moore. Her shadow cloak rippled slowly as she stood. “If we should find children of these employees, they would be exceedingly more powerful than their progenitors.” The Emperor rose slowly, hand on his black cane, having not cracked a smile or smirk throughout the encounter.

“Make it so, and do not fail me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short part, but this next chapter will finally get to the meat of the story!


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Empire wants a child...and it’s HIS job to get him.

It was a perfect day on Belderone, or so the Imperial records said. The skies seemed blue as ever, the plains as adventurous. Only the cities could still be boring. It was just another Imperial factory world, hardly worth a mention. Yet, on that particular day, secret plans were in action.

In the early morning light, soft repulsorlifts carried two K79-S80 Imperial Transports toward their target —  _ Empirical,  _ an apartment complex for the rotating staff of COMPNOR employees

Arius Clatts, a proud man of the empire, was selected to lead the charge. One squad followed their fearless point-man, and another remained in the transport. He looked at a blinking device in his hand, which read positive, then motioned for his troops to follow with three cocked fingers. Before entering, he cautiously secured the stormtrooper’s helmet and nodded briefly. The readings grew stronger until he stood outside the door. He changed to two fingers, then kicked down the door. 

Shouts of, “Raid, raid!” pierced the air. Wasting no time, Clatts ordered the family that he had broken in on, “In the name of the Emperor, we are requisitioning your son.”

“No!” Clatts turned to see a mousy man, presumably the father, grab a blaster pistol from a Tionese urn.

“I apologise for the intrusion, Mister,” Clatts began, but could not remember any name, so he settled for the impersonal greeting. “But the Emperor demands your child be handed over to Imperial Custody.” Clatts reached back for his own pistol. Just a little insurance.

“You have no right,” mumbled the man.

“Simply drop the blaster and we will discuss compensation,” he warned.

“I’ve been loyal to the New Order for years, but this is too far. No compensation is worth losing my son. But of course you clone brats won't understand that.” 

_ That’s absurd,  _ Clatts wanted to say.  _ Clones were phased out years ago. They’re a minority now. _

Then the man made, what Clatt’s considered, another stupid decision. He actually pulled the trigger, singing a hole through Clatts’ armor and burning his shoulder. 

Clatts dove behind a bookcase to return fire as he called into his comlink, “Backup, Edict 3037.” The rest of the squad that waited outside the door burst into the parlor, while the other squad surrounded the entrance to  _ Empirical. _

“Which one do you want?” a stormtrooper with a blue stripe asked.

“The youngest one,” Clatts replied simply. The youngest was five years old according to the childbearing license the COMPNOR employees had taken out. The troopers leveled their guns at the family and reached for the child.

Suddenly, the front door was flung open again. Two boys, about fifteen or sixteen, entered the room, blasters raised

“Hands off him!” one screamed.

“Steady, steady.” Clatts warned.

“Copy that, boss.” The other six troopers raised their blasters.

“Don't do anything that will ruin your lives. Your brother will be well taken care of,” Clatts promised.

“Not an option.” The boy’s brothers turned faster than Clatts could follow and wrestled two troopers to the ground and grabbed their blasters. Both aimed at Clatts’ chest. “You’re not taking him.”

“Don't make this difficult, boys.”

_ Phew!  _ Clatts clutched his other shoulder where a fresh hole had been burned. _ I hate to do this,  _ he thought. “Fire at will.” Four blaster bolts silenced any protests from the boys and their father.

Now he strode to the new widow with a hand on his burning shoulder. “My condolences, madam. We are prepared to offer you four hundred thousand credits for the loss of your sons and three hundred thousand for the loss of your husband. On top of that, we offer one million credits for the boy  _ alive, _ ” he stressed, lips thin and grim.

The widow looked into Clatts’ eyeholes, and he felt a sudden need to remove his helmet. He reached up and removed the magnetic seal. “Madam, my orders were clear. Your son is Imperial property whether you agree to this or not.” He pulled off his helmet and revealed his blond ponytail and green eyes. “I am deeply sorry.”

The woman looked at her son, then at Clatts. Then, in a whisper she pleaded, “Treat him well.”

“You have my word,” Clatts assured her. But he knew, deep in his heart, that he had no power to deliver on that promise. Maybe that’s why he replaced his helmet before he told her. His eyes could have held too much sorrow. 

He motioned for one of the other troopers to hoist the boy into their arms. As he exited the complex, he turned to a pair of stormtroopers with a red lambda on their helmets.

“No one escapes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this satisfies the appetite for a while until I get the next part up!

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is short, and I apologize for its brevity, but it’s just the prologue. I can’t give too much away...which is why I posted the first interlude as well. Enjoy! And please comment and kudos if you like it!


End file.
